


Pathetic / Cathartic

by AnotherAnon0



Series: Poor Little Rich Bitch: Extended [3]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Begging, Body Writing, Class Differences, Cock Cages, Gangbang, Inferiority Kink, M/M, Master/Slave, One Shot Collection, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Humiliation, Self-Humiliation, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Submission, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Alfred gets taken to the U.B.C.S barracks as punishment for disobedience... and as a way to push his boundaries.
Relationships: Alfred Ashford/Sergei Vladimir, Alfred Ashford/UBCS Mercenaries
Series: Poor Little Rich Bitch: Extended [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077350
Comments: 11
Kudos: 10





	Pathetic / Cathartic

Alfred's feet hurt.

Pebbles sharply prodded at his delicate, naked soles as he was led roughly down one of the rocky island paths. He tried not to hiss pathetically through the little pangs of pain, knowing they wouldn't be well-received. He was already in shit.

He tried to tread carefully, but it was difficult. Sergei was far taller, and had much longer legs. Every long, purposeful step of his was a stumbling two or three by Alfred. He'd have tried to slow down, but the leash was quite short today.

It was almost a relief when they finally crossed the threshold from the woody partition to the U.B.C.S barracks. There, the rubble path turned to one of flat pavement, and hurt much less to walk on. The path led to a large, thick steel door, barely illuminated by a flickering overhead light. The entrance to the barracks.

Sergei came to an abrupt halt just one metre away from the proverbial portal, jerking on the leash tightly and causing Alfred to swing around from his side to stand before him. 

The older man smugly sneered down at him for a moment in silence, licking his scarred lips before speaking.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't bring you in there." He said quietly, the soft tone of his voice betraying the threat the words relayed, "Give me one good reason."

Alfred knew he didn't have one. He weighed staying silent, but decided that might make things worse.

"I don't have one, Sir." He swallowed hard, his Adams apple scraping against his tight, leather collar, "I deserve... this... All of it, Sir."

Surprisingly, Sergei seemed somewhat satisfied with the answer.

~

The expression on the faces of the mercenaries in Delta Platoon ranged from cautious amusement to perverted excitement. 

Cruel giggles and jeers were passed around the gathered crowd as they looked on at the sight, dozens of eyes flicking across the details of Albert's increasingly reddening ass.

Sergei had lain Alfred across one of the steel cafeteria tables, face down. With his thick, leather belt, he'd begun lashing him on the bottom and back. The loud sounds of leather striking flesh had echoed down the halls and quickly drawn a curious crowd to the otherwise empty dining hall.

_"Colonel's got a new toy, looks like."_

_"Damn, he's really getting beat. Wonder what he did..."_

_"Is that... is that fuckin' Ashford?!"_

Tongues licked over lips predatorily as the men watched on, increasing realisation spreading amongst them that the proverbial whipping post was none other than the preening Lord of the Island himself. 

Alfred's ass was starting to blossom bruises by the time Sergei ceased his abusive ministrations, not giving the sobbing, choking man one moment to rest before grabbing a fistful of his blond hair and pulling him from the table roughly. He was pulled to the floor, scrambling to fall to his knees, tears still streaking down his red cheeks. It was there that he was finally able to take in the immense, gathered crowd, head having been turned away during his lashing.

It was also there that the immense, gathered crowd was able to see the intricate, tightening cage locked onto Alfred's blushing cock. Gasps and laughs erupted amongst the mercenaries almost immediately. 

He had known to expect it, but peeped in humiliation nonetheless. His instinctual impulse was to bring his hands up to cover his naked, hairless body, but he quickly suppressed the urge. 

Covering up was not allowed. He had no dignity to preserve. 

~

Sergei kept his grip tight in Alfred's soft hair, smirking in devious amusement as he began to explain the reasons for the night's _festivities_.

"I suppose I should be a better Colonel and explain the reason for this disruption of your evening activities..." Sergei started, licking his lips like a predatory beast, "Our dear _Lord_ Ashford broke my last good bottle of vodka after failing to take it the few steps from the shelf to my table."

Sergei neglected the detail about how he commanded him to wear his highest, most painful heels. Ones the older man knew full well he was shaky on.

"Now, that may not seem like an _egregious_ violation... But we all know that _Lord_ Ashford is of the type who gets _uppity_ if given any leeway. These ones quickly fail to remember their _place_ if not given constant reminders."

The pain of the lashing continued to throb through Alfred's backside, creeping down his thighs and up his spine. But, to both his horror and utter lack of surprise, the pain was met with the familiar tickle of a heaviness deep in his belly, one which was causing his cock to strain against its metal confines. The heaviness was exacerbated when Sergei jerked his head up using the grip he maintained in his hair, forcing him to stare upwards at the much taller man from his spot on the floor.

"What is your place, _Lord Ashford_?" Alfred's formal title was but a sneer hissed through teeth sarcastically. 

Alfred's Adams apple bobbed over the collar, thoughts hazy and face warm. There were so many potential answers. He didn't know which to give. He wanted to give them all.

"Submitting to superior men, Sir." His voice was breathy, lusty. And while it had been a quiet mewl, it was still audible to the crowd, some of whom began to laugh in response -- disbelieving and genuine. Every jeer sent a wave of electricity through Alfred's cock.

"And _why_ is that your place?" The follow up question was, mercifully, far easier. Sergei had told him the reason why so many times before, but even if he hadn't, Alfred knew. It was the entire reason why they had begun their delicate little trysts, certain boudoir _fantasies_ of Alfred's having come to Sergei's attention. They were reasons he'd told himself, hand shoved down his blanket and in his waistband.

"Because I am useless in every other way, Sir. For anything else."

~

Sergei had settled down to sit on the bench of the table Alfred had been lashed over, releasing his grip on the younger man's head and pointing to the increasingly rowdy crowd of mercenaries.

"Look at them." He instructed simply, waiting for Alfred to comply before propping his cheek on his fist, "I want you to explain to them why you are so useless. Surely they deserve an explanation."

The blood in Alfred's cheeks was practically boiling. His hands kneaded at his thighs, the leash Sergei had dropped earlier clinking and dangling in a pool of rope and chain in his hips. He stared at it in the moments that looking into the crowd became too much. He could feel tears pricking at the inner corners of his eyes but didn't know if they were from humiliation or his neglected, overwhelming arousal.

"I-I...." Alfred swallowed hard, struggling to vocalise. He knew it should have been easier than this. He'd thought about it more times than he could recall. He wondered why it was so easy to say it in his head but not aloud. All he'd _ever_ wanted to do was say it aloud. 

"This is what a private school education gets you, hmm?" Sergei's sarcastic, sneering joke prompted giggles from the mercenaries.

Alfred flicked his eyes over to Sergei, quickly reorienting them into the crowd once more. His cock was leaking now. He could feel the wetness bubbling past the cage and onto his thighs. He swallowed again, trying to sort through the mess of thoughts plaguing him. 

He briefly recalled when he had been ashamed of his fantasies. _These_ fantasies. They'd originally come as nighttime wet dreams, then as desperate masturbation sessions in the bath, then still as thoughts he tried to combat every waking moment of the day. He'd always felt ashamed of them. ' _ **The** 7th Earl Ashford should not be getting off thinking about being made inferior_!' he'd tell himself angrily, going so far as to preform egregious acts of malevolence on Rockfort Island to reassure himself and others of his power. Alfred had even once had a soldier arrested for no reason but that the man, passing by on routine patrol, had provoked in him thoughts about worshipping his boots. Of course, he'd simply told his private police that the man looked 'suspicious.'

Sergei had helped him come to terms with his desires. Alfred always knew his talk about demanding he act on his more extreme fantasies wasn't simply talk. Nothing about Sergei was simply _talk_. But sometimes Alfred wondered if he was pushing himself off of a deep end he'd never be able to recover from. He hated how even that -- the idea of destroying himself and his family -- was practically moan-inducing.

" ** _Speak_**."

~

Alfred took a shaky breath and looked at the closest mercenary. The man had dark skin, and handsome, caramel eyes. He had a softer smile than some of the others, glimmers of arousal clearly tickling through his glasses.

"I've never had to work f-for anything in my life!" It was a rapid blather Alfred almost stumbled over, "I was handed everything f-from the m-moment I was born and I never learned how to be a-a real man like you!"

Sergei's words were laced with his almost-audible smile, "Continue."

"I am a pathetic parasite." The words prompted an immediate twitch in his balls, one that would have caused him to orgasm had it not been for the tight ring at the base of his shaft, physically preventing release.

"Yes."

"A-and I-I am sick of being treated like I am important when I'm n-not!"

"What will you do about it?"

"I w-will submit... I w-will..." His fingernails were practically clawing into his thighs now in desperation. 

"Submit to who?" Sergei was merciless in his prodding. Tears finally began to cascade down Alfred's cheeks, the glassy sheen of embarrassment over his eyes shattering into crystalline droplets.

"A-anyone-- E-everyone." Alfred's voice was cracking and hoarse now. He whined through his decreasingly coherent responses pathetically, feeling utterly overwhelmed, "E-everyone is-- is superior to me. I-- I'm n-nothing. I ne-need to -- to... to be u-useful!"

Sergei scoffed loudly, "You realise you are still needing help from these superior men, _da_?" He mused, "You require them to give you purpose. To bear the burden of your existence. Even as you proclaim your inferiority, you are a pest. A leech."

"I-I'm s-sorry, I'm s-so s-sorry."

The mercenaries in the crowd baring witness had shifted from entertained to being utterly awe-struck. Some of them were just beginning to recognise the depth of what was unfolding before them. That Lord Alfred Ashford himself had just desperately bawled through a tirade about his own inferiority. Some were whispering to each other about Sergei's prowess, thoroughly impressed at what a mess he'd made of the preppy prince in just a few minutes. But most were practically vibrating in anticipation of the next, inevitable phase of the evening theatre they had been treated to.

"I want you to _beg_ these fine, hardworking men to waste time on you." Sergei said with a sigh, "Crawl to them and _**beg**_."

~

The bruises on Alfred's ass _pinged_ in pain as he crawled on his increasingly shaky limbs, the pit of aroused heaviness in his belly threatening to rip through his abdomen and fall to the floor like a bowling ball.

He crawled until a set of boots were between his hands, in his line of vision as his gaze had been cast to the floor. Slowly, he looked up, eyes trailing along the dark fatigues until he was able to catch a glimpse of cruel eyes jeering down at him.

"P-please, Sir..." Alfred mewed softly, "C-can I be-be useful to you?"

"How?" The smug question prompted some snickers from other men leering over the mercenary's shoulder. After all they'd seen, they knew they were expected to contribute to and amplify the degradation. The Colonel didn't need to say it to make the demand.

Alfred's breath caught as he realised he didn't have an answer. A fresh wave of tears were beginning to swell on his blond lower lashes.

"Yeah... How?" Another mercenary piped in, crossing his arms, "What are you good for?"

"I d-don't kn-- N-nothing, S-sir, I'm g-good f-for n-n-nothing..."

"Nothin'?" Another voice, "Fucks' sake."

"Then what the fuck do you want from us?" Another.

"You ain't useful to anyone, pal, get that through your skull." Yet another.

Alfred's eyes flicked through the crowd, trying to follow the jeers, but many of the men were still shrouded in darkness. He knew that would change soon. The cacophony of interruptions began to drum louder and louder, causing Alfred's cheeks to twitch in shame.

"You guys really can't think of anything this pretty princess would be good for?" 

"C'mon, even if he's too stupid to realise it, he is good for at least one thing."

"Hey, princess, show us your cunt."

"Do you _really_ want to stick your dick in that?"

"I have a few months worth of loads pent up I could use a cum toilet for, sure."

The mercenary he had begged leaned down, catching his attention again. The young man had pale hair and eyes, with a pin-straight nose and a long, jagged scar running across his forehead. When he spoke, he had a slight, southern American accent.

"Why don't you turn around and show us the only thing you're good for, princess."

Alfred hiccuped a peep of indignity, shifting on his hands and knees until his backside was facing the crowd. Immediately, a few jokes were issued about the bruises on his lashed ass, calling him 'damaged goods.' He shivered and slipped his hands down his sides, gripping each one of his plump, sore asscheeks and spreading the flesh to fully expose himself to the crowd of men.

As he was ruthlessly assessed and named, he caught sight of Sergei, still sitting at his table, one leg crossed over the other and bobbing sweetly. The older man looked entirely amused and content at his terminal humiliation. 

Slowly, Sergei rose from his table, hand dipping into his jacket pocket to retrieve something as he approached the mercenaries, almost ignoring Alfred completely as he did.

"I am trying to keep tabs on his endeavours..." He said, handing the closest man a permanent market, "Please sign in if you plan to indulge him."

~

Sergei had decided to make himself tea in the cafeteria's kitchen, the smell of cum and sweat becoming a bit overwhelming for him as he doted over the seemingly endless line of men who had formed. 

He casually boiled a kettle and sorted through the cabinets and pantry to find the tea. He chose something oddly out-of-character -- some sort of strawberry herbal concoction. It smelled sickly sweet as he poured water over the bag, but he was in a different sort of mood tonight and didn't mind the change of flavour from his usual dark, bitter cuppa. 

While his tea steeped, he thought. His thoughts were complimented by the sounds emanating through the buffet windows. Flesh-on-flesh, moist slapping, suppressed gurgles, yelps, cries. 

H thought about how he'd once sworn to hate Alfred Ashford to the ends of time itself, their shared allegiance to Umbrella be damned. Alfred had been nothing but a prude in his mind -- a snotty, rich brat who looked down upon anything that wasn't his own reflection. He'd taken so much verbal abuse from him in the name of professionalism that when he discovered Alfred's _particularities_ he was delighted if only to have a mechanism to manipulate and destroy the younger man.

But as he learned more, he began to admire Alfred. The Earl was nothing if not dedicated. And, as much as Sergei hated to admit it, exposing oneself in such a profound, transformative, soul-crushing way took more strength than Alfred's constant claims of inferiority would suggest. It was commendable.

After he'd blown down the heat of his tea and taken his first few sips, Sergei decided to slip back into the main dining hall, mug in hand.

Alfred was quite a striking sight. Both holes being stuffed by the _nth_ duo, the younger man's body was covered in black scribbles from the permanent marker Sergei had distributed. Almost every inch of flesh was covered in signatures, scrawling names, and even little characters some of the men had drawn on him. The only place that remained clear was his chin and upper thighs -- likely because the ink couldn't write through the layers of cum that had rapidly accumulated in those spots.

Sergei sipped his tea casually, taking his place at a table's bench once again to continue watching.

Alfred's eyelids fluttered, alternating between being tightly clenched and shooting open at one intense sensation or another. A jerk on the leash, a slap on the ass, a lazy prod at his caged erection -- all of it prompted the young man to yelp and gargle around the cock in his throat.

Some of the mercenaries were taking pictures on their phones. Normally, Sergei wouldn't have allowed that. But after a short debate in his mind, he decided the added humiliation would be good for Alfred. A creeping fear he'd be exposed at any given moment, the anxiety that came with evidence of his vulnerability circulating indefinitely -- it was all good for him. Extensions of other things he'd expressed he wanted and needed. It was a boundary that needed to be pushed. 

The two mercenaries came almost simultaneously, likely because Alfred had begun to twitch and struggle wildly as yet another one of his own orgasms was, once again, denied by his metal confines. 

Sergei sighed contently when their withdrawal led Alfred to plop to the floor pathetically, spewing cum from both ends, and he smiled when the younger man's hazy, disassociated gaze rolled over to him.

This was cathartic for them both. 


End file.
